


Consequence

by Steena



Series: Closer 'verse [2]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Mech Preg, Unplanned Pregnancy, crossfaction relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-16
Updated: 2018-01-22
Packaged: 2019-03-05 17:11:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13392429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Steena/pseuds/Steena
Summary: After the events of his heat, Barricade is developing a set of symptoms he isn't familiar with. The Seekers aren't as clueless, and that might be a good thing.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Sequel to "Closer".

It started out slowly; frequent helmaches and bouts of dizziness. It was slightly concerning, but since all his self diagnostic programs came up with nothing suspicious, Barricade refrained from going to Hook. The reproductive protocols were always running, but they seemed to be working fine, and they mostly reported their progress when he rebooted after recharge. The countdown, he didn't enjoy, because it sort of made him feel like a walking bomb. He wondered if it was a countdown to the next heat.

He was too embarrassed to ask the Seekers about it, because, frankly, the Decepticons weren't exactly much for talking about interfacing or anything related to that. Those things were apparently reserved for the softsparked Autobutts. Not that he was going to comm Jazz and ask!  _Pit, no!_

His musings over his morning energon was cut abruptly short by what was the thirty-seventh bout of acute nausea and he scrambled for the washracks across the hall. He'd experienced nausea out of the blue quite a few times, but the last week it had taken an ugly turn for the worse as energon set it off even worse, forcing him to purge his tanks. It left him in need of more recharge. He also felt an odd craving, almost impossible to ignore, for human made fuel.

He was leaning against the wall, staring at the remains of his morning fuel splattered on the floor when the door opened, admitting the command trine. The Mustang started the water to wash away the filth from the floor, watching the pink rivulets sluice down the drain, quite like his dignity.

Skywarp leaned against the wall next to him, giving the grounder a thorough once-over with a calculating smirk. The other two Seekers came to stand around him, arms crossed, effectively boxing him in.

"So, how long has this been going on?" Thundercracker spoke first.

"Nothing's going on." Barricade got defensive straight away.

  
_What the frag where they after?_

"Purging your tanks frequently is hardly 'nothing'. And don't give me any excuses, I  _know_  that you have been doing this before. Starscream rasped, piercing optics locked on the Saleen.

"'Bout an Earth week." Barricade gritted out.

_Oh great, he was adopting Jazz's speech- pattern. He so wanted to get out of there._

"How far along are you?" Skywarp asked, sounding as if he was cutting to the chase.

It earned the black seeker a glare from his trine mates and a blank look from Barricade, because to the Saleen, the question was incomprehensible.

"Huh? Far along what?" He asked dumbly.

The black Seeker looked surprised and more than a little alarmed.

"You don't know?! He doesn't know!" Skywarp blurted, turning from Barricade to the other Seekers.

"Primus in the Pit." Thundercracker said, rubbing his servo down his faceplates in exasperation.

"Don't play stupid. I know what's going on, you can't fake ignorance." Starscream snapped.

"I-I don't know what you're talking about!" Barricade's voice wavered.

_Curse his unstable emotional protocols right now! They had been all over the place lately and right now his vocalizer was about to glitch with distress._

"What did you do when you were in heat last time?" Thundercracker asked softly, his field reaching out, trying to soothe the upset grounder.

"What?"

_Did they know? Oh, Primus they knew! He didn't know how, or why, his purging mattered to him being a_  traitor,  _but that was not the biggest issue in Barricade's point of view. He was going to be slagged._

"You're carrying, sweetspark." Skywarp crooned.

The black Seeker put an arm around Barricade, EM field reaching out with comforting pulses. The interceptor was certain it was a distraction, as soon as he relaxed, he would be dragged in front of Megatron and slagged for treason. Then his CPU actually processed Skywarp's  words.

...

"What?"

"Let's not have this conversation here." Starscream gritted out in a low voice, giving the door a meaningful glance.

Everything went black, the disconcerting sensation of falling making his sensors go haywire. It disoriented  Barricade before they all materialized in big quarters. 

_The trine's habsuite._  Barricade realized. A scan tingled over his frame and he jumped.

"Yep, he's preggers alright." Skywarp grinned. "So who's the lucky sire?"

"I... what?" Barricade asked for what seemed the thousandth time.

_Fragging_  flyers.  _Almost never made any slagging sense whatso-fragging-ever._

Starscream looked at him speculatively, steepling his claws, and Barricade squirmed. The mercurial second in command was hard to predict on a good day, and the Mustang was still befuddled at the turn this day had taken.

"You really don't know _anything_ about reproduction, do you?" Starscream asked. "And don't say 'what' again." He added, effectively cutting Barricade off as soon as he engaged his vocalizer.

"We're gonna have a birds and bees talk!" Skywarp exclaimed, clearly excited.

The black Seeker stuck his glossa out at Thundercracker's dour expression. That mech had really embraced Earth culture.

"Ok, I'll give you the key notes." Starscream said in exasperation, motioning for Barricade to take a seat.

The smaller Decepticon sat down slowly on the couch, not taking his optics off the air commander.

"Insert spike into valve; spills transfluid. Transfluid gets into gestation chamber when the frames are locked together. Gestation fluid gets charged by transfluid, process to build a frame start. At the sparkmerge, a new spark breaks free from the mingled plasma and rests in the carriers chamber until strong enough to move to the frame."

Barricade's processors were reeling. The only thing coherent was the repeated litany of "fragfragfragfrag" spinning wildly as he tried to comprehend that he had a slagging tiny mech inside him.  _He was slagged._

"You should have used contraceptives. But I guess that's hard when, apparently, nobot ever saw fit to teach you this." Starscream considered for a few seconds. "So who  _is_  the sire? I haven't heard about anybot fragging you, and let's face it; Decepticons tend to not be very discreet about _that._ "

Skywarp stared at the Saleen with his intake hanging open. Thundercracker looked oddly worried. Starscream raised an optical ridge at the frozen black and white mech in front of him.

"The baby-daddy is an  _Autobutt?!"_ Skywarp's voice was shrill with disbelief.

"You know I betray Megatron all the time, and you were in heat, so I'm not going to hold it against you." Starscream stated matter of factly. 

"I... It's  _not_  an Autobot. I'd rather not talk about it. I promised to keep it a secret?" It came out more as a question than a statement.

Starscream saw right through it, of course. The mech was at least as brilliant as he was conniving.

"What's done is done, and we have no problem looking past it, but what I'm really concerned about is the sparkling. You can't raise a youngling among the Decepticons." Thundercracker gave his opinion for the first time.

"I'm not sure I can raise one at all." Barricade managed to mutter despite his shock.

"As much as I hate to send any mech on his way to defecting, TC is right. This is not a place for a sparkling." Starscream agreed with his levelhelmed trinemate. 

"You want me to join the Autobots?!" Barricade was outraged.

"Want is a strong word. But you can't have a smallframed grounder, half Autobot no less, growing up with the glitches in our faction." Thundercracker snapped.

"He'll be the best Decepticon functioning. Imagine it, being taught everything the mechs here know right from the start. He'll be a  _weapon_  unmatched. And he is _not_  half  _Autobot!_ " Barricade hissed with conviction.

_Oh, yes. Because he knew anything about caring for a sparkling and teaching him and training and... Primus, he didn't even know how to get the fuel into it. He was slagged._

"Hey! You okay there, sweetspark?" Skywarp's concerned face materialized before his optics.

Barricade reset them.  _When did he end up on his back on the floor?_

"You freaked out and your vents went haywire." Skywarp explained without being asked.

The other Seekers sat around him and when Barricade tried to sit up, Thundercracker stopped him.

"Take it easy. No need to rush. Your frame is taxed enough." The blue jet coaxed.

"Of course I freaked out! You are telling me that I should defect." 

"Just process it for a few minutes. Imagine that bitlet of yours when he, or  _she,_ because it could be a femme for that matter _,_  starts to near the age of mature enough to interface, and  _all_  the Decepticons is starting to snoop around and try to get him into berth. You  _know_  we have real creeps in our faction. Would you like to see your little one having his seal broken long before he's ready by fragging  _Vortex?_ Or how about Dreadbot? Or any of the others for that matter." Thundercracker stated his case.

Barricade still couldn't quite grasp the concept of having a sparkling, but his core programming wasn't as confused. Protection of the offspring reared it's vicious helm and he bristled at the thought. Because as much as he hated it, they were  _right._  The Autobots would probably be a better place for a youngling. He'd have to give it up. 

As soon as he thought of leaving the bitlet to them, his spark twinged. No, he couldn't leave it there. It? Him. Her?  _Frag. He was slagged._

"Soo... Who's the sire? Was he good in the sack?" Skywarp asked conspiratorially, waggling his optical ridges.

"Oh, Primus,  _yes!_ He was slagging  _fantastic."_ Barricade exvented sharply as his frame heated at the memory. "His designation is Jazz."

The Seekers shared a look. Incredulous was the best way to describe it.

"Jazz is an urban legend. Nobot has ever seen him for real, not a confirmed sighting, at least. It's said among the rank and file that he has the highest killscore in the Autobot army, perhaps higher than any Decepticon too. He's supposed to be an assassin and saboteur, but we have never managed to catch him. Not even Soundwave has been able to find solid proof he exist. Command suspects that the Autobots use the designation as psychological warfare, blaming every nasty kill and sabotage on 'Jazz' to scare us Decepticons. For a lot of our warriors it works too. Jazz is like a ghost story."

Barricade sat frozen, trying to come to terms with it.  _Had he been fooled?_  Was the mech he'd fragged somebot else than he said? The Saleen hadn't been able to find any identification, after all... But the mech had been dangerous, without a doubt. Had he fragged a living legend? He wanted to think so.

"Seems not just us 'Cons are tricksters. But hey, he was good in the sack, and that's the most important thing, right?" Skywarp said cheerily, elbowing the interrogator.

"I...uhm. I suppose."

"You don't have to decide right now, if this is too much. But don't wait too long. In my opinion, there isn't much of a choice." Thundercracker stated.

"This conversation never happened, of course. We'll keep an optic on you, but we're not miracle workers. Be careful. Nobot can know." Starscream said, ushering the flabbergasted interrogator out of the suite.

 

 

*****

 

 

After their little chat, Barricade found himself staring at his ventral plating for long stretches of time. He picked at the seams and prodded his protoform and wasn't he getting a bit... _bigger?_  His seams seemed wider.

It put a deadline on everything, because soon it was going to be noticeable even by those not in the know. He started to comm Jazz several times but never went through with it. Did the mech even exist?  _Would he want an unplanned sparkling?_  

The cravings got worse and the Mustang found himself sneaking out to go sucking down Earth-fuel, straight from the pump, in the wee hours of the morning just to go unnoticed. Sometimes he found Bio-diesel and that was a treat, but the luckiest days were when he got the chance to mix unleaded gasoline and ethanol. Pure bliss.

Then came the morning when Barricade was in the washracks and something inside him  _moved_. He bent over as it nudged his tank and he almost lost his energon over it.

_His time was up._  He had to decide. He couldn't keep it a secret for much longer. Finishing his cleaning distractedly, he was focused on the thing growing inside him that suddenly had become so _very_  real. That little nudge changed everything. Somebot was living in there. Where he'd been detached before, now all his carrier protocols flared online with a vengeance and he knew he'd do  _anything_  to keep the bitlet safe. The choice was as easy as breathing was to a healthy human. Frame cleaned, he headed for the command trine's habsuite where Thundercracker opened the door before he even pinged his presence.

"Come on in. Starscream is on his way." The blue Seeker said and pulled him inside.

Barricade's optics fell on Skywarp, the black Seeker splayed out on a berth, a datapad in his servo. The flier looked at ease and the Saleen found himself jealous. He wanted to have the casual intimacy that allowed a mech to be fully relaxed in the presence of another.

"I have to go through with it. It's the best thing to do. " The interrogator blurted.

Skywarp sat up, datapad forgotten, with an indecipherable expression

"I may not like it but the sparkling can't be raised here."

"Good call." Thundercracker said.

Barricade whipped around when the door slid open to reveal the Air commander. The Seeker seemed to size him up for a second before entering.

"TC informed me that you were here. Are you defecting?"

"Yes." His voice sounded weird, distant somehow.

"Then let us not delay this any longer." Starscream stepped up to him. "Skywarp!" He barked, making the other Seeker scramble from the berth.

Barricade was pinged with a commrequest with several connections and he accepted it just in time to hear Starscream rasp out over the open line.

::Prime! We have a defector to deliver to you. We will arrive at your location in a few seconds.::

The Mustang had just enough time to wonder if Starscream had the terminology of the human's way of counting time all wrong. Surely, they wouldn't be that fas....

Then Skywarp grabbed him and he suffered the confusion that came with teleportation.

 

 

*****

 

 

They materialized in the desert, the midday sun scorching hot, but Barricade didn't really notice. As Autobots came scrambling out of their hangar and the humans came running out, guns in hand but taken by surprise, they were missing the gear they normally wore to battle, he doubled over and purged his tanks. The dizziness from the teleportation overwhelmed his already sensitive systems.

As he leaned gratefully against Skywarp, trying to recover, he heard the ominous humming and clicking as various guns powered up and loaded. Starscream and Thundercracker stood as a barrier between the small grounder and the entire Autobot army on Earth.

"Starscream, what is the purpose of this?" Prime's deep voice carried.

"My apologies for the hasty appearance, but for once, we are not out for a fight. We have a Decepticon in a precarious situation that need assistance. We couldn't risk that this information fell into the wrong servos, hence the urgency of the matter." Starscream said haughtily.

"Why would we aid any of you?" Ironhide snorted, his guns spinning.

The mech looked absolutely lethal. However, Barricade's processors seemed to have developed an issue with staying focused even on important matters since...  _well since his heat, really_ , and now it decided this was the  _perfect_  opportunity to supply him with the image of Jazz impaled on the Weapons specialist's spike.  _Thank you, processor._

The Prime ignored the bristling Topkick in favor of concentrating on the command trine.

"Who is it? What sort of predicament? Is anybot hurt?" Prime asked warily.

"It's Barricade. He isn't hurt. He's carrying."

The following silence was more pregnant than Barricade. Skywarp nudged the grounder forward, the trine no longer hiding him with flared wings, but standing close behind him, weapons at the ready but not actively trying to be hostile. Everybot stared at the Saleen and he squirmed under the intense scrutiny.

"How is this our concern?" Prime asked. 

Not that he wouldn't help a would be defector, but even Barricade could see how this absurd situation would just reek 'hoax.'

::Who's the sire?:: Skywarp asked over the comm.

Barricade locked at the mechs gathered until he thought he found what he was looking for. The audials of the silver mech wasn't quite right in shape, and he had a glaring Autobrand across his chestplates, but otherwise it was a perfect match. The mech stared at him, his frame tense.

::Third one on the left.:: He answered.

Skywarp managed to snort across the comm. 

::Sorry to tell you, but that's Ricochet. He's just a grunt. Pretty for a grounder, though...::

Barricade didn't reply, trying to figure out if he was the one fooled, something he didn't really want to believe, or if Skywarp was the one having it all wrong. Then the proceedings took all his attentions. It was more important right now, he told himself.

"Well, since the sire's one of  _your_  mechs, I'd think you would be interested to figure out who's responsible for that kind of treason. I doubt that you want a sparkling to deal with being the half Autobot in the Decepticon ranks." Starscream said, voice acidic. "And me and my trine will not be able to keep them safe at all times. If Megatron finds out that Barricade can carry, he's at great risk of becoming a forced breeder."

To the Prime's credit, his composure didn't waver and if he was shocked, he didn't show it.

"Ratchet?" Prime half-turned to the medic.

"Already scanned him. He  _is_  carrying." The medic bit out.

Ironhide was glaring at the other bots, optics locking on Sideswipe.

"It was you, wasn't it? You horny, fucking idiot!" He snarled.

"I wash my hands of  _that_ kind of perverted scrap! Eew." The frontliner gagged.

_Barricade was going to have to learn more about humans and expressions if he was going to stay here._  He only got half of what they were saying.

"Enough!" Prime growled at his subordinates. 

The Truck's optics locked on the Mustang and the Decepticon found himself wishing the ground could swallow him. The gaze was cold and razor sharp, piercing him and making his very spark squirm inside his casing.

"So who  _is_  the lucky sire?" Prime asked him directly.

"Jazz." He answered, going for defiantly.

He caught the surprise in the big mech's optics and it gave him just a sliver of victorious satisfaction.

"Ehm, sir?" The silver mech he knew as Jazz spoke up, rubbing a pede in the dirt, clearly embarrassed. "That might be _me._ "

Jazz was cuffed on the back of his helm by the Weapons specialist.

"You're a fragging _aft._  What, you pretend to be  _Jazz_  to frag _Decepticreeps_ now?"

"We will be  _having word's_  about this later,  _Ricochet._ " Prime ground out to the small 'Bot.

"Yessir." The grounder's voice was small, as if 'having words' was the worst punishment in existence.

"So, Barricade. You really want to defect?" Prime turned back to the Saleen.

"Yes. My Lord. Sir?" He wasn't sure how to address his enemy.  _Former_  enemy. "I don't think the Decepticon army is a good place to raise a youngling." It was the truth.

"Very well. You  _will_  be guarded at all times until I consider you trustworthy."

"Yes sir." He hadn't expected anything less.

"Starscream, you may say your goodbyes. We'll take custody of him and his progeny."

The Decepticons huddled together. They hadn't really been close friends, but somehow this brought them just a little closer.

"Send us pictures of the little one. You have our commlinks." Skywarp smiled.

"Take good care of the sparkling. The first one for millions of years." TC said softly, almost reverently.

"Bye, glitch." Starscream smirked, but it was all in wry humor.

Barricade nodded an acknowledgement before he turned, taking in the staring Autobots, the scowling faceplates. The humans with guns. Jazz, or  _Ricochet_ , or whatever his real designation was. Slowly, to not startle the twitchy army into shooting, he started making his way over to his new faction.

 

 

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

He was taken inside at gunpoint, Ironhide and the silver Frontliner flanking him even as Prime glared pointedly at his subordinates. 

"Still a 'Con, Prime. We ain't letting him loose just like that." Ironhide rumbled.

The humans were firing rapid questions about what was going on but they were ignored by the Cybertronians, just adding to the racket as everybot talked at the same time. Barricade couldn't really make anything out, so he walked slowly, servos held up to show he wasn't going to suddenly attack.

"He's carrying and my scanners can't pick up on anything indicating foul play so far." Ratchet's voice was loud enough to be heard over the commotion.

The hangar doors slammed shut, and as if that was the cue everybot had been waiting for, they turned as one to Barricade and the silver mech that had slid up to him.

"What the slag is this? 'The evil jock concubine gets knocked up by the horny geekboy who's had the secret hots for him for like forever'?" Sideswipe spat. The references went by Barricade, but Jazz snorted.

"R'ya callin' ol' Megsy a jock, Sides? Cuz I don't find 'im all that sporty..."

"Jazz! What in the Pit were you thinking?!" Ironhide snarled at the smaller Autobot.

The silver mech shrugged unrepentantly as he pulled off the static sticker Autobrand with one servo, the other coming up to detach a prosthetic audial horn.

"He smelled so dang  _good_. 'N' jus'  _look_  at tha' aft." He said, winking half his visor at the Saleen.

Barricade had so many questions, mainly who the frag the mech actually was, but he didn't get a chance to engage his vocalizer. The Prime's impressive bellow cut through all the noise, effectively silencing everyone present.

"Enough! Barricade, you're going with Ratchet for a check up. You better behave...."

"Or my wrenches are the least of your problems." The medic cut him off, earning a glare from the Autobot leader. Ratchet just shrugged.

"Jazz! My office. Without delay."

"We're going with Ratchet." Sideswipe stated.

"Don't you think I can handle one small 'Con?" Ratchet spat, annoyed.

"Not up for debate." Ironhide rumbled.

"Fine. But you're waiting  _outside_  the medbay. And if you agitate my patient, I'll weld your fragging afts to the floor." The medic snarled.

Prime was actually dragging the silver mech away by the arm when Barricade looked and he resorted to following the medic who was still grumbling to himself. The heat from double plasma cannons pointed at him had the Saleen moving very slowly and carefully. He wasn't up for being deactivated today.

 

 

 

*****

 

 

The medic made good on his word; the warriors were left outside. Barricade relaxed a fraction. Not that he thought the medic harmless. Oh no, he knew the reputation of  _Ratchet, the Hatchet_. The mech knew how to handle himself in a fight and the rumors said he cursed at the mechs he fixed up too. But at least he didn't seem to exude impending violence like the other two 'Bots.

He sat down on the berth when he was asked and put up with the deeper scan without protest. Ratchet hooked him up to an energon IV, because of his low levels and it was a relief when his gauge went from red to yellow for the first time in a very long time.

When the medic pulled a cable from his arm, offering it to Barricade, the Decepticon was about to object but just one look at the stony faceplates had him disengaging his vocalizer before a sound left it. He took the cable and plugged it into the medical port in his side, trying to stifle the knee-jerk reaction from his firewalls at the intrusion. It was still disconcerting how easily the medical overrides slipped into place and allowed the Autobot through. The medic was good.

He followed the progress in his HUD; the reproductive protocols, a lot of code involving his frame that he couldn't decipher. Like most Cybertronians, he relied on the warnings his diagnostic systems pinged him with if something went to slag. He'd had a few of those lately, warnings he didn't recognize, but since nobot could know, he hadn't taken it to Hook. And if his frame ever had come with a manual, it was long lost.

"So, how did you manage to land us all in this mess?" Ratchet asked grouchily.

"I wasn't the only one involved in this, you know." Barricade snapped defensively.  _It_   _wasn't like he had planned this for frags sake._

"Oh, I know _that._ But most mechs get the an/cath-bolts installed in their gestation chamber to avoid this kind of sideshow in the middle of a fragging  _war_."

"I didn't _know!_  Ok? It was my first heat, and I didn't even know grounders did go into heat and fragging  _Blackout_  figured it out before me and I was almost raped in the fucking rec room before I managed to run out of there and I didn't know we could get sparklings like this so just  _shoot_  me because I was ignorant."  _Okay, his overclocked emotional protocols might be the reason he went into a panicked rant. He didn't even know what fucking really meant, but it seemed to be a fitting expression._  "Please don't shoot me." He added, vocalizer glitching.

"I won't even throw a wrench at you." Ratchet stated flatly. The medic rubbed his faceplates. "Primus, I'm sorry kid. Didn't mean to freak you out, and if you were uninformed about all of this, that's just a whole new level of fragged up."  _Because for as vicious as the Saleen was, it was obvious that he was a pretty young mech and Ratchet did sort of pity him. Kind of._

"Everything seems to be working ok, but both the frame and the spark is small for the age of it. Maybe not that strange, considering you have multiple deficiencies and you've been low on fuel for way too long. The report looks better at the end, oddly enough. Did you find some way to supplement yourself?" Ratchet focused on the examination.

The medic's field had smoothed out and his voice was soft, not at all the terse snapping from before. Barricade couldn't quite believe it yet, but it seemed like Ratchet was trying to comfort him and despite himself he relaxed a little.

"We had very strict rationing. And I started purging my tanks lately, the smell of energon triggered it. I...ah I started having Earth-fuel. I get cravings for it." It was embarrassing to admit liking what the others thought nigh undrinkable.

"Don't be ashamed. It's not the worst cravings I have encountered in a carrier." Ratchet chuckled but didn't elaborate. "That you gave in to them just might have saved the sparkling. You could keep it down for starters, and the composition of the different fuel types have actually supplemented your frame. I'll see if I can get you some Jet-fuel, see if it suits your tastes. If you can't keep our energon down it will be the best for you to have while I try to come up with supplements."

"Do you have some information on the process I could read?" Because all this talk was making him more curious.

"I could compile something from my own archives, but it will take a while. In the meantime, you could search the internet on human pregnancy. It's different but still similar."

The scrolling on Barricade's HUD stopped as Ratchet examined something more closely.

"Have you had another donor since the heat?"

"Donor?"

"Have you interfaced? And not used your spike? Another sparkmerge?"

"No. Just..." Barricade stared at his knees. "just self service." He mumbled.

"Yeah, well that doesn't count. You need to get some transfluid and a sparkmerge ASAP." Ratchet said offhandedly.

Barricade almost fell off the berth.  _Was the medic going to 'face him right here?!_

"I'm not 'facing you!" 

He was across the room with the berth between them in milliseconds, not even noticing the sting of the cable being ripped out of his medical port or the IV being disconnected. Something clattered to the ground as he ran. The door burst open, both the Frontliners coming inside with their weapons charged and ready.

"Did he hurt you?" Ironhide snarled.

"No, he just freaked out a little when I said he needed to replenish the transfluid levels. Now get out of my medbay before I start throwing tools!"

The gruesome twosome glared for a few seconds longer until something Ratchet said caught up with Sideswipe.

"Eew! Were you going to  _'face_ him?!" He stared at Ratchet. 

The medic rolled his optics and shook his helm.

"No, I'll leave that to the one who's responsible for this. Now  _get. out._ "

The two 'Bots obeyed, reluctantly and slowly, but they backed out and Ratchet slammed the door shut.

"I'm not going to 'face you. We'll go talk to Jazz."

"So that _is_ his designation?" Barricade asked a little sourly. He didn't like to feel decieved.  _Huh. Imagine that from a Decepticon._

"Yes, Jazz is real. But I'll leave that to him to explain. You're fine for now, so let's go find him. I'll set up some different sorts of fuels for you for evening refuel."

"Thank you." The words felt odd in his vocalizer, unspoken for so long.

"You're welcome." Ratchet led the way outside and huffed in annoyance when Ironhide and Sideswipe fell in behind them again.

 

 

*****

 

 

They found Jazz in a private room with Optimus, the smaller mech looking decidedly contrite. Whatever  _words_  the Prime had uttered, apparently they had hit home.

Ratchet motioned for Barricade to step inside and he did so after a brief hesitation. Prime followed him with his optics and Barricade did a double take. He hadn't seen the mech without his battle mask before. The Autobot leader looked equally interested and exasperated. Barricade couldn't come up with anything to say, so he focused on the other Autobot at the table. Jazz seemed to brush off whatever had been said before and turned to the Mustang.

"Heya,  _Barricade._  Long time no see. Ya missed me?" He smirked, all cocky confidence and Barricade envied his composure.

"Hello Jazz. If that really is your name. Or should I call you  _Ricochet?"_

There was a glint in the silver mech's visor, a flash that Barricade couldn't decipher, but it was gone too fast for Barricade to even be sure he saw it.

"'m Jazz. Tha one 'n' only, in tha platin'.  _But don' tell th'other 'Cons."_  He stage whispered the last part conspiratorially.

Barricade took one last step and stopped before the Autobot, by now sprawled in his chair like a relaxing predator. It was that last step that brought Barricade into his EM field and everything happened too fast for the Saleen's processors to keep up with.

A heavy weight in his chest pulled him toward Jazz and the Autobot sucked in an invent in surprise as the black and white interceptor almost toppled over him. As soon as the scent of the 'Con registered, Jazz's visor brightening to almost white, a taloned servo shot out to grab Barricade's wrist, pulling him into the silver mech's lap.

Barricade's frame went willingly, straddling his mate and he was overcome with need, talons urgently scrabbling over silver chestplates.

"Primus, ya still smell delectable." Jazz groaned, his interface plate sliding away to reveal his fully pressurized spike.

There was commotion in the background; mechs shouting and swearing, the sounds of metal meeting metal as somebot was dragging somebot else bodily from the room. Ratchet's voice snarling "They need this, let's at least give them some fragging privacy." Stood out and registered, otherwise that was just inconsequential background noise to the Saleen.

His chestplates slammed open, locking into Jazz's almost before the Autobot's plates had fully slid apart and they both wriggled around desperately to get that spike inside the Decepticon's aching valve.

Then they were both reduced to feeling each other, no longer coherent, as they re-established a connection they didn't knew they had formed but all their creator protocols was adamant they needed right now.

 

 

*****

 

 

"So you really are Jazz? The others said that Jazz is an urban legend. That you're Ricochet: just a grunt."

Jazz laughed, a sound Barricade found himself liking. They were still on the floor, frames lax after their heated coupling, talons picking at each other's plating lazily and the Saleen found himself feeling utterly safe.

"Yep, 'm Jazz alright. Autobot third in command, head of spec ops at yer service. 'N I see our smokescreens work. Figured tha' if tha 'Cons dunno 'bout me existin', it'll freak 'em out. 'N when I ge' caught, they think 'm nobot 'n' won't bargain so hard for my release. Or deactivate me." The smirk Jazz wore was self satisfied with a hard edge of danger.

Barricade shivered a little.  _He'd been right that the Autobot was dangerous._

"So all the rumors about what you have done? Are they true?"

"True. 'N tha's not even  _half_  o' what I've  _really_ done." His smirk turned lethal.

"So you really are an interrogator?"

"Tha best. Or tha worst, dependin' on wha' side o' tha interrogation yer' at."

_At least his sparkling would be safe, with a sire like that._

"I really hoped tha ya'd comm me, ya know. Wanted ta see ya again" Jazz pulled him closer but then he laughed. "Well, mebbe not exactly like  _this,_  but I can deal with this. 'm excited bout tha sparklin'."

A weight that Barricade hadn't even know to be so heavy on his shoulders eased. If Jazz didn't only take the unplanned sparkling in stride, but didn't reject him either, then he could probably deal with the other Autobots.

_He wasn't going to be slagged._

 

 


End file.
